Seraphina's POV
The invitation arrived before dinner, written in elegant script on cream paper.
Lady Valorent, you are cordially invited to join the noble ladies for afternoon tea tomorrow. We would be delighted to welcome you into our circle.
It wasn't signed, but I recognized the handwriting from court announcements. This was from the ladies who'd surrounded Isolde today.
It's a trap, Elena said immediately when I showed her.
Obviously. I set the invitation down. Which is why I'm going.
My lady
I need information, Elena. I need to know who my enemies are, what they want, what they know. I met her worried gaze. And I can't hide in these chambers forever.
The next afternoon, Elena dressed me carefully in pale green—soft, unthreatening. Make them underestimate you, she advised.
The tea was held in a private parlor overlooking the gardens. Six noble ladies sat waiting, all beautiful and dripping with jewels. Isolde presided at the head like a queen holding court.
Lady Valorent! She stood with false enthusiasm. How wonderful you could join us.
The other ladies smiled with the same fake sweetness. Predators circling wounded prey.
Thank you for the invitation, I said smoothly, taking the seat they indicated.
A servant poured tea—delicate porcelain cups decorated with roses. The liquid steamed, releasing a floral scent.
We were just discussing married life, one lady said, her eyes gleaming with malice. It must be so different for you, coming from... well, from such circumstances.
They wanted to talk about the massacre. About prison. About being forced to marry my family's killer.
Fine. Let them try.
Very different, I agreed calmly, lifting my teacup. Though I imagine most marriages aren't quite so eventful.
The general must be quite demanding, Isolde purred, leaning forward. Given his reputation. Tell us, does he live up to the whispers? Is he as brutal in private as he is on the battlefield?
The other ladies tittered, watching me like hawks.
They wanted to humiliate me. Make me squirm. Share intimate details they could spread as gossip.
The general, I said carefully, is a perfect gentleman.
Isolde's smile sharpened. Really? How... disappointing. One would think a man called the Butcher would have more fire.
I brought the teacup to my lips, then paused. Something was wrong. The smell—underneath the floral notes was something bitter. Chemical.
I set the cup down untouched.
Not thirsty? Isolde asked innocently.
The tea is a bit strong for my taste, I replied.
A lady beside me—I didn't know her name—drained her cup eagerly. I find it perfect. Don't you, Lady Marchand?
Absolutely perfect, Isolde agreed, watching me over the rim of her own cup.
The conversation continued, each question more invasive than the last. How did Cassian treat me? Did he force me? Did I cry? Did I fight back? Did I enjoy it?
I answered each question with polite evasions, my mind cataloging their faces, their tells, their cruelty.
Then the lady beside me made a strange sound.
Her cup clattered to the floor. She clutched her throat, eyes going wide with terror.
Are you alright? another lady asked, voice rising with panic.
The woman tried to speak, but only choking sounds emerged. Her face turned red, then purple. She clawed at her neck like she was being strangled by invisible hands.
Someone get help! Isolde screamed, but she didn't move. None of them did.
The woman collapsed from her chair, convulsing on the floor. Foam bubbled at her lips. Her eyes rolled back.
I jumped up, backing away from the table. From the teacups. From the woman dying in front of us.
Poison.
The tea was poisoned.
And I'd almost drunk it.
The woman's convulsions slowed. Stopped. Her eyes stared at nothing, her mouth frozen in a silent scream.
Dead.
Guards! Isolde shrieked. Guards, quickly!
Soldiers burst through the door, taking in the scene. A dead woman. Noble ladies crying and screaming. Me standing apart, my untouched teacup still on the table.
What happened? the lead guard demanded.
I don't know! Isolde sobbed convincingly. Lady Harriet just collapsed. We were talking, and then—oh God, she's dead!
The guard's eyes found me. Lady Valorent, are you injured?
No. My voice came out steady despite my racing heart. I didn't drink the tea.
His gaze shifted to my full cup. Understanding flickered across his face.
Heavy footsteps thundered in the hallway. Cassian appeared in the doorway, his expression deadly. He took one look at the scene—the body, the teacups, me standing pale and shaking and crossed the room in three strides.
Did you drink it? His hands gripped my shoulders, turning me to face him. His eyes searched mine with desperate intensity.
No. I smelled something wrong and
Thank God. He pulled me against his chest so suddenly I couldn't breathe. His arms wrapped around me, holding tight. His heart pounded against my cheek, racing as fast as mine.
For three seconds, I let myself lean into his warmth. Into the solid safety of him.
Then reality snapped back. I pushed away, and he released me immediately.
We need to leave, he said, his voice turning cold and controlled again. The vulnerable moment vanished like it never happened. Now.
He led me from the parlor, his hand on my lower back. Behind us, I heard Isolde crying dramatically, other ladies wailing. The guards were already examining the teacups.
We walked in silence through empty corridors. I was shaking now, delayed shock setting in. A woman had died drinking the tea meant for me. Her face, purple and terrified, would haunt my nightmares.
Someone had tried to murder me.
And they'd killed an innocent woman instead.
Cassian brought me to our chambers and locked the door behind us. He moved immediately to the sideboard, pouring amber liquid into a glass.
Drink this, he ordered, pressing it into my hands.
I drank. Whiskey burned down my throat, but the warmth helped.
Someone wants you dead, he said flatly.
I gathered that. The whiskey made my voice rough. The question is who.
Isolde is the obvious suspect. She arranged the tea party, chose the serving girl, poured the cups herself.
But why? I'm no threat to her.
Cassian's jaw clenched. You are to her. Because Damien can't stop watching you. Because the Emperor is more interested in our marriage than in theirs. Because you're everything she's not—brave, strong, impossible to break.
The compliments caught me off-guard. You barely know me.
I know enough. His gray eyes held mine. I know you survived six months in prison without breaking. I know you walked down that aisle in black and looked magnificent. I know you faced an entire court that hated you and never flinched.
I flinched today, I admitted. When she died. I almost—
But you didn't. He stepped closer. You trusted your instincts. You stayed alert. You survived.
Barely.
Barely is enough. Barely means you're still alive.
We stood close enough that I could see the fear lingering in his eyes. Fear for me. My enemy was afraid for me.
This is your world, I said quietly. Poison and murder and court games. How do you live like this?
Very carefully. His hand came up like he wanted to touch my face, then dropped. And now you'll have to as well.
I won't hide.
I'm not asking you to hide. I'm asking you to be smart. To trust no one.
Not even you?
The question hung between us.
Especially not me, he said roughly. I'm the man who destroyed your life. The last person you should trust.
But he'd just held me like I was precious. Looked at me with genuine fear. Called me brave and strong and impossible to break.
My enemy was becoming something else. Something more complicated. Something dangerous.
Welcome to court politics, he said, turning away. Where everyone smiles while sharpening knives.
Then I'll sharpen mine too.
He glanced back, and something like approval flickered across his face. Good. You'll need them.
A knock interrupted us. Captain Marcus entered, his expression grim.
General, we've examined the teacups. The poison was in Lady Valorent's cup specifically. Someone knew exactly where she'd sit.
Inside information, Cassian said. Someone who knew the seating arrangements.
Or someone who arranged them, I added.
Marcus nodded. We're questioning the serving girl now. But there's something else. He paused. Lady Harriet—the woman who died—she wasn't supposed to be there today. She took another lady's place at the last minute. A lady who suddenly claimed illness.
Ice slid down my spine. So the poison was meant for me, and someone else's substitution killed an innocent woman.
That's what we believe.
Cassian's hands clenched into fists. Find out who arranged that substitution. And Marcus—double the guards on our chambers. I want someone outside this door at all times.
Already done, sir.
After Marcus left, silence fell heavy between us.
They'll try again, I said. Whoever wants me dead won't stop.
No. Cassian moved to the window, staring out at the darkening sky. They won't.
Why? The question burst out. Why does someone want to kill me badly enough to murder an innocent woman?
He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then: Because you're dangerous to them
How? I'm nobody. A conquered bride with no power, no allies, no
You're my wife. He turned, and his expression was fierce. That makes you powerful whether you realize it or not. And it makes you a target for everyone who wants to hurt me.
People want to hurt you?
His laugh was bitter. Seraphina, half the court wants me dead. The other half wants to use me. You think the Emperor forced this marriage to reward me? He did it to control me. And now you're caught in the middle.
Understanding crashed over me. I wasn't just a trophy wife or a conquered enemy. I was a weapon pointed at Cassian. A vulnerability he'd never had before.
Then maybe, I said slowly, you should have left me to die in that cellar.
Never. The word came out fierce. Final. I'd burn the whole Empire down before I let anyone hurt you.
The intensity in his voice stole my breath.
This was more than duty. More than guilt. This was something raw and dangerous that neither of us could name.
And somewhere in this fortress, someone wanted me dead badly enough to kill for it.
The question was: who?
And what would they try next?
That night, Cassian insisted on sleeping in my chambers—on the couch, fully dressed, sword within reach.
I didn't argue.
Because the truth was simple and terrifying:
Someone had tried to murder me today.
They'd killed an innocent woman instead.
And they would definitely try again.
But as I lay in the darkness, listening to Cassian's steady breathing from across the room, one thought kept circling:
Why did his promise to protect me feel more dangerous than any poison?